


The End

by TheWanderingAlias



Series: Every P.O One-Shot I Wrote Last Summer [9]
Category: Block B
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 10:03:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16870936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWanderingAlias/pseuds/TheWanderingAlias
Summary: In which it is time to part ways





	The End

"This is it.” You said, an equal amount of excitement and despair bubbling within you. Your friend next to you squealed and clapped her hands together, the roar of the rest of the crowd drowning out anything she could have said. You were anticipating the song that would be played, as it was the single title track that had yet to be performed that evening, and bit your lip anxiously. And when the first chords of the acoustic version were strung, the audience gaped and exploded in joy at the familiar melody. 

 

The dimmed lights faded into brightness, seven shadows on the stage revealing themselves to be far more than mysterious silhouettes. The girls around you screamed and waved their little light-sticks until the audience was an ocean of vivid beams swaying with rhythm.

 

‘Her’ was not often performed acoustically, the normal powerful and upbeat vocals meeting softer and more melodious tones. Of course, you knew what the guys had in store for their final performance of their last show in your country. 

 

Just when the chorus was about to hit, the figures on stage opting for simple sways as the audience hummed harmoniously, the guitar suddenly stopped and the lights cut. A grin spread across your face as all around you erupted in jeers. Now they knew what was coming. 

 

The stage exploded in bursts of eccentric color and laser effects. The music picked up, and the tempo was restless; this was the ‘Her’ you all knew and loved so much.  
Fans cried out around you, screaming the words as the guys took position and did their famous, quirky dance that had you jumping with them in place. It was miraculous, the entire performance. Your eyes hadn’t left him once.

 

When the crowd dispersed after the guys said their farewells, a single tear rolled from your eye. You couldn’t believe it was over. Your friend rubbed your back knowingly, understanding of how you felt despite not sharing the situation. She left you with a sad goodbye and good luck—there was something you had to do.

 

As per your instructions, you waited outside the building, munching on some pretzels you bought from a snack stand. You waited hours, hours until the security guards were on the prowl and you had to give the excuse your ride hadn’t shown up yet with plea in your eyes. They let you stay, but had their eyes on you the whole time. You cursed and wondered how long he’d be. 

 

Though, shortly after, a smile was on your face, the familiar volume of chestnut hair poking out of the cracked backseat window. Your ride was there.

 

He opened the door with a toothy grin of his own and embraced you so warmly you thought you’d melt. You felt as though you could stay like that forever… though, the same thing was on both of your minds, and neither of you would bring it up. It was too sad a thought. 

 

You gave the security guards a wave over your shoulder, as they stared at you incredulously, and hopped in. 

 

“Sorry I took longer than I said. There were more fans at the fansign than what was expected.”

 

You waved him off, there was no way he could have backed out of that, and held his hand firmly. “You’re here now, so that’s what matters.” 

 

He ruffled your hair with a glint in his eyes, signaling the driver to head off. The plan was to go to his hotel and have dinner, probably help him pack too if the other boys didn’t cause too much of a ruckus. The thought of him leaving made you squeeze his hand tighter, and you peered out the window, willing to stay positive and enjoy your last night together for many months.

 

When you arrived, it took you a few minutes to realize the SUV had stopped moving, and you wished you hadn’t been zoned out the entire drive. You wanted to talk. You wanted to make the most of it. 

 

P.O tickled you until you gave airy giggles. Embarrassment filled you when upon remembering the two of you were not alone, however, on a single glance, you noticed the driver had left the vehicle and given you complete privacy, the tinted windows providing ensured seclusion. You smiled. He did too. 

 

“What do you want to do?” He asked, nudging his nose against yours. You sniffled and pecked at his chin, causing him to playfully pout. “Many things,” You answered, truthfully. 

 

His eyebrows raised and you could only imagine what was reeling inside his mind. “Well then,” He exclaimed, drawing back and offering you a hand. “Let’s get started.”  
After a divine cuisine consisting of cup ramen and colas, P.O sat you on the hotel mattress and ordered you to lie on your stomach. 

 

“I’ll give you a massage, relax.” It was a curious action to come from him, but you let him have his way, pushing your questions to the side.

 

His hands weren’t smooth, like how they looked. Instead, they were large, calloused, and worn with years of dance studio floors and mandatory fitness routines. He dipped his palms beneath the cotton of your gray T, tentative as though he hadn’t actually touched that place before, and slowly soothed circular motions into your shoulders. 

 

You sighed pleasantly, because he was better than you thought he would be. “You’re pretty tense.” He said, increasing the pressure on one knot between your shoulder blades. You tucked your head into the sheets and nodded. 

 

“I wonder why,” You replied, muffled. But you already knew why. There was no way you would tell him, though.

 

After a few minutes, you offered to switch positions, to which he gratefully accepted, tossing off his sporty jacket and flopping onto the bed like and enthusiastic kid waiting for Christmas. You laughed.

 

He released taunting moans, some of which you knew straight away were forced and dramatic, but it was nice to hear nonetheless. Afterward, he led you out to the balcony.  
The night was crisp, dwindling down to an end. You wanted to sob when you saw the  
clock on the wall. But you didn’t. 

 

“It’s beautiful out here,” You worded instead. P.O grabbed your hand and brought you into a clumsy ballerina twirl, to which you laughed and stumbled into his chest. “Well you know how in dramas, the girls always say the sky is beautiful and then the man looks at them and says, ‘I see something more beautiful now’?” His forehead touched yours, and you blushed. 

 

“Well I see something more beautiful every second of my life.”

 

You released a flustered laugh, slapping his chest lightly. His deep words reveled in cheesiness and romanticism, as always.

 

“Are you sure you’re not just looking at yourself in the mirror?” You half-joked—if you could, you’d stare at his features 24/7. It was his turn to chuckled, the flattery evident as he gave a pointed look. 

 

You stood there against him for some time, breathing in the mint of his collar blended with the evening’s delightfully calming sandalwood scent. You sighed, almost forgetting the countdown was soon to reach its end.

 

P.O’s hand came up from the small of your back and rested against your hair, tucking your face against his warm chest comfortably when he realized you were crying.  
“I know.” He said. “I’ll miss you too.”

 

You didn’t reply, thankful you didn’t have to. After some time, you broke contact. It must have been three in the morning. His flight left at five. 

 

“Let’s finish your packing.” You offered a tight grin, grasping his hand.

 

His luggage was complete with every single belonging he’d brought around three-forty. He’d have to leave for the airport soon, and there was no way you could follow him there; the last thing he needed was to be wrapped up in another scandal if news broke he was secretly dating someone. 

 

The hotel room would be your final memory together for a long time.

 

P.O played with your fingers quietly, the both of you sat on the seemingly-less-comfortable bed, patiently letting time pass by.

 

“We didn’t get to do that much.” You realized, and frowned. He nodded his head. 

 

“And here I thought I’d be able to make sweet passionate love to you in our final moments.” You snorted and flicked his chin, the gray atmosphere lighting up. He always knew what to say.

 

“I suppose you’ll just have to wait, then.” You tossed back. He threw his head into a  
pillow and brought you with him, your cheek immediately finding his chest. 

 

“I hear it’s better after a long time anyways,” The logic didn’t make sense to you, but you laughed with him anyways. 

 

He went silent and you peered up at him with tired eyes. He was watching you, swirling a finger around your hip bone. He kissed you gently, leaning down and craning his neck. 

 

You moved for him, holding yourself up right, though, the exchange was painfully short.  
His phone was suddenly going off, and you turned away and watched out the window as he took the call. His words drowned out. You already knew what was happening. His arms wrapped around you from behind, his lips imprinting a final stain on the junction of your neck and shoulder.

 

“This is it. This is The End.” He stated, an echo in your head. You nodded. Yes, it was. The End. He wanted you to look at him, and he didn’t need words to let you know. You faced him. 

 

“I love you, so, so much.” He stated, clearly. 

 

You smiled, returning it: “I love you too.”

 

He set his palm on your cheek, his thumb dancing swirls onto the skin. He kissed you again, a sharp, pained sigh leaving his lips as he pulled away. He had to keep it brief, elsewise he would never want to stop.

 

You understood. 

 

“I’ll see you again before you know it.” His statement reassured you, but not as much as either of you would have liked. You nodded. “Don’t miss me too much.” He joked, a sad laugh coming from your lips. You nodded again.

 

He stood, his expression cloudy, his eyes shining. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

 

Your lip trembled, but you composed yourself. “Goodbye P.O.”

 

The door clicked morosely behind him, and you collapsed back onto the bed, tears meeting the sheets as sleep began overtaking you. You couldn’t help but to smile in that moment, though. You were positive and hopeful the days would pass fast. Also, the bed still held his scent. You slept with ease.

 

~~~

 

“Y/N, can you get the door?! Someone’s been buzzing but my hands are full!” Your sibling called from the kitchen, and you sighed, clicking off the TV. Block B had a successful showing in Paris that week. You wondered if P.O went to the Eiffel Tower at all.

 

You stalked down the hall and passed the kitchen to the front. Someone buzzed again, and you grew slightly annoyed with sound. It was too early in the morning for all of that.  
The camera was busted outside, and the com had bad interference. You peered out the peephole instead. And you gasped. You laughed, smiled, cried, and flung open the door. 

 

“You’re early.”

 

“I believe there were some things we had left undone, and I was too impatient.”

 

You jumped into his arms, his encompassing, warm arms, and cried into his neck. He stroked your back without hesitation, full of love and care and all the tender feeling he could muster. 

 

That was it. That was it, sure, but so long as you always found each other again, there was no The End for you and P.O. 

 

Never.


End file.
